


Tangled

by dayinthelife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayinthelife/pseuds/dayinthelife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the asoiafkinkmeme.</p><p>Prompt: Her hair is getting too long and girlish, so she pesters him to cut it for her until he gives in. She does not expect the experience to be so shivery or make her stomach feel so strange and jumpy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled

She comes to him carrying a stool and shoves a pair of scissors into his hands as she sits down. Gendry raises an eyebrow and she stares at him impatiently. Finally Gendry shakes his head. “No, I am not cutting your hair.”

The next day Arya finds him breaking his fast on a bowl of porridge. “Please, please please please? I don’t trust anyone else not to mess it up! And you’re so good with your hands besides,” Arya whines, deciding to go the route of flattery. It’s ruined when she takes a berry out of his bowl and pops it into her mouth. 

The third time she’s standing in front of his forge and refuses to let him through, hands on her hips (she has hips now, Gendry notices absently before mentally shaking himself) and a scowl on her face. “Come _on_ , it’s so long and knotty, it _needs_ to be cut!” she declares, blowing a few strands of hair out of her eyes to prove her point. Gendry has to admit that her fringe is long enough to tickle her eyelashes and it looks a bit ridiculous.

She doesn’t get a chance to bother him a fourth time, because she’s startled awake the next morning by pounding on her chamber door.

“I hope you’re decent, Stark, I’m coming in!” Gendry warns before opening the heavy oaken door, her stool under his arm and scissors in hand.

“…Gendry, why don’t you have a shirt on?” 

“You can’t expect me to get your hair all over me, can you? Put this on,” he says, tossing a roughspun smock into her face and turning around to give her some privacy.

A minute later and she’s changed and on the stool, Gendry standing silent behind her.

“Just…can you cut it to my shoulders?” Arya asks, feeling suddenly queer and vulnerable with Gendry so close behind her.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he says, lifting her hair and tying it a bit below where she wants it. His hands brush the middle of her back and she shudders, hoping Gendry won’t notice.

“You okay?” _Fuck._

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, go ahead and cut it already,” Arya says, her voice a bit sharper than she intended.

Gendry lobs off the ponytail after a few moments of hacking (the scissors were dull and he was a blacksmith, not a handmaiden, Gendry retorted when Arya chided him for chopping away at her hair so savagely) and tosses it into Arya’s lap. “That short enough for you?” he asks, running his hands through her hair to spread it out. The touch of his fingers on her scalp sends tingles down her head and into her chest where they stay to bloom warmly. Arya reaches up to touch her hair and brushes one of Gendry’s hands. She pulls her hand back to her lap as if she’d touched a burning coal.

“Yeah, this seems good,” she says, trying to keep her voice from wavering even as she feels heat creeping up her neck and face. Why is she reacting like this? She’s acting stupid, Gendry’s only a blacksmith, and he’s not even that good looking besides. He’s got calloused hands and his hair is always tousled and he’s always got soot on his face…

“Okay, the ends are all trimmed and even, time to cut your fringe,” Gendry says pleasantly, moving in front of her to crouch at eye level. Arya meets his eyes (such a dark blue, they remind her of the pool in the godswood at Winterfell) for a moment then looks away scowling.

“All right, just hurry up. I wasn’t expecting you to want to do this so early in the morning, stupid, I’m hungry,” she mutters, hoping he doesn’t notice how pink her face must be and at the same time wondering what would happen if he did.

“Calm down, you’ve been bothering me about this for days. God forbid you look a bit like a woman for another day more,” Gendry teases as he cuts, but the hurt look Arya gives him catches him by surprise and the smile melts off his face.

“I’m sorry I don’t look womanly enough for you,” she snaps, jerking her head away (which is probably a dangerous thing to do, but Arya has never been known for thinking before she acts). 

“That’s not what I meant…” Gendry says, resting his fingertips underneath her chin and guiding her face toward his. “You’re a woman grown, we both know that,” he says gently. He _does_ know, had guiltily caught himself noticing the newly developed curves of her body, staring a bit too long at her twisting and turning in the practice yard, her chest heaving with exertion.

Arya feels as though her heart might burst out of her chest, it’s beating so quickly, and if this is what being in love with someone is like, it is so utterly _stupid_. How could Sansa _want_ to feel this way all the time? Nevertheless, she finds herself staring into his eyes. “You do?” she asks, and thinks it lucky that he had come before she’d broken her fast, especially with the way her stomach seems to be doing back flips right now.

“Well. Well yes. Don’t be an idiot!” Gendry says, flustered. Then he surprises the both of them by moving forward suddenly and kissing her on the lips.

Arya’s eyes go wide at first, and she isn’t sure what to do for a moment, but of course Gendry seems to have done this before, and she soon takes his lead, mouth moving against his. He brings a hand up and puts it in her hair, turning her head slightly and running his tongue along her bottom lip. Arya opens her mouth under him and lets out a tiny noise as he puts his tongue in her mouth. He smiles against her lips and she brings an arm up to rest her hand against the back of his neck. Maybe Sansa might be on to something after all. 

Gendry breaks the kiss and grins at her. “Yep, definitely a woman.”

“Shut up!” Arya cries, her face flushed crimson, and she pushes him away. Laughing, he falls to the ground and puts his hands up in surrender. “But definitely still Arya.”

Arya gets four compliments on her new haircut by dinner that night (even if her fringe is a little uneven).


End file.
